


The Carol and Bucky Memory Hour

by Politzania, Pyrone



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), unintentional identity porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22146058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrone/pseuds/Pyrone
Summary: A chance encounter at a New York coffee shop followed by shared group therapy sessions sets Carol Danvers on course for a relationship with a fellow veteran.  Along the way, she discovers, to her surprise, exactly what (and who) they have in common.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Carol Danvers
Comments: 27
Kudos: 34
Collections: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The Carol and Bucky Memory Hour  
> Content Creator(s): Politzania & Pyrone  
> Square Filled: O5 - Carol Danvers/Bucky Barnes  
> Rating: General/Teen  
> Pairing(s): Carol Danvers/Bucky Barnes  
> Warning(s)/Trigger(s): references to past emotional/physical abuse  
> Summary: A chance encounter at a New York coffee shop followed by shared group therapy sessions sets Carol Danvers on course for a relationship with a fellow veteran. Along the way, she discovers, to her surprise, exactly what (and who) they have in common.

The guy waiting for coffee in front of her is a little too twitchy for Carol’s taste. He’s clearly on edge about something, and his long sleeves and gloves are somewhat out of place on an early autumn day in New York City. And while it would be a pretty stupid idea to hold up a coffee shop during the morning rush, Carol knew better than to underestimate anyone’s capacity for stupidity. So when he squares his shoulders as if preparing for a fight, she does the same.

But instead of reaching for a weapon, the guy turns around to face her, flashing a fake (but still somehow charming) smile. “Hi, I’m James.” He holds out his hand, and she shakes it automatically.

“I’m Carol.” She watches his eyes widen slightly as she matched his grip strength with her own. Little did he know she could crush his hand to a pulp in the blink of an eye; but he hadn’t given her any reason... yet. 

“Nice to meet ya.” He tips his head toward the menu board, and with the slightest strain in his voice, asks, “What are ya thinkin’ of gettin’?” 

She shrugs, still trying to figure out what he was up to. Despite having a Brooklyn accent as thick as Bugs Bunny’s, he’s perhaps in his mid thirties and surprisingly handsome. She takes a moment to admire his storm-blue eyes, high cheekbones and well-defined jawline framed by a bit of scruff. “Something simple, like a medium-dark roast. How about you?” 

“Thinkin’ about that special they got listed. Got a bit of a sweet tooth.” His expression softens to something more genuine, and Carol finds herself smiling back. 

“I’ve been eyeing the pastry case, myself,” she adds. The muffins, turnovers and cute looking cookies with jam are all familiar-looking, although there are a couple of items she can’t quite figure out. 

“Sir, you’re next,” the barista calls out. 

With an almost apologetic expression, James turns back around to place his order. His body language relaxed a little, to Carol’s relief, but she still watches him closely as he steps away from the counter to wait. After placing her order, Carol walks over to stand next to him; mostly just to keep an eye on his but (she has to admit to herself) also in hopes that he feels like continuing their conversation. 

He looks her up and down, but it’s almost a professional sizing-up than anything flirtatious. “You ain’t from around here, are you?” 

“I’m a military brat. Grew up all over and I’ve been travelling ever since.” It wasn’t a lie, just not all of the truth. “You, on the other hand, are most definitely a local.” 

He chuckles a little. “Yeah - but I been away for a long, long time.” The barista calls out his name, and James scoops up his cup before inclining it slightly towards her in a salute. “Have a good day, Miss Carol.” 

“You too, James.” 

Her coffee comes up quickly enough for her to trail James out of the shop, where he’s met up with a black guy wearing sunglasses and a wide, gap-toothed grin. Carol keeps her distance, but strains her ears to catch their conversation. 

“So?” the other guy says with a bit of a smirk.

She could almost hear James’ eyes roll. “So what? I talked to someone I didn’t haveta. Happy, Sam?” 

James’ companion claps him on the back. “Looked like you were flirting, to me. Gonna make a real boy out of you, yet, Buckaroo.” 

James snorts. “Still feel more like Humpty Dumpty, most days.” 

Carol stops in her tracks; his statement hitting surprisingly close to home. After everything that had happened here on Earth and across the universe -- she was finally starting to pick up the pieces of her own broken life. Maria was a huge help, of course; but there was so much she just didn’t know. That neither of them knew. 

The bothersome part was what she didn’t know. Coming back to Earth came with rediscoveries. Things like favorites became relevant and choices were something she could make again. So far a nice medium roast coffee was the safest and nicest thing. You can’t unsweeten coffee, only add more and then choke back the mess you made -- that had been an early discovery and an apt metaphor. 

The less said about the tar that functioned as the morning drink with the Kree (not that the Air Force was much different in that respect) the better. Morning beverages and food gave the recruits the barest illusion of choice. It was something you grew to accept. Nothing had ever really felt like a choice looking back. The Kree had been efficient with their sort of conditioning. She’d been ready to fight and had settled into their methods and way of life just as effectively as she had in basic training. At the end of the day, armed forces were armed forces she supposed. 

Making the decision to attempt a civilian, non-super-hero life-style had been hard. Very hard. Hard enough that she found an outlet for when things got too stifling here on Earth She would don her Kree suit and do an odd bit of exploring She could push her limits in a way that her new life didn’t. And finding new things, things that maybe no one else really knew about? Well, that was something she could enjoy.

Another way to go on with her life post-battle is to re-establish her identity as Carol Danvers. With a bit of help from Fury, she’s getting military benefits; after all, superheroes don’t earn much of a salary. One of those benefits was counselling sessions, and Carol had joined a support group for traumatic brain injury survivors. She fit in well, as many of them were dealing with memory loss in one way or another. 

As she reflects, Carol finds herself inadvertently shadowing James and Sam with each planned turn through the city. She is both taken aback and not surprised at all when she sees them heading right for the VA building. It seems James is a vet as well. Carol takes a detour into a side entrance instead, as there was no need for him to think she’s stalking him after a single chance encounter. She is simply on her way to a group session. 

Carol nearly drops the cup she’s holding as she steps in the meeting room and sees James sitting there. His eyes snap up to meet hers; making her wonder somehow who was stalking whom. Because this was her routine, her life. She knows she has the means and methods to deal with the situation if it suddenly goes sideways. But for the moment, there’s no proof of a problem. 

Thankfully, James isn’t in her seat, positioned instead on on one end of the U-shaped seating arrangement. New people weren’t an uncommon occurrence in their group, she just wasn’t expecting him. In defiance of her touch of paranoia, she shoves her hands in her pockets and strides to her seat, her head high and back straight. 

More people she knows drift in, some tired, some offering a brief nod as a greeting as they sit down. Familiar faces help restore her equilibrium; not ones from the past she only has fragments of, but rather elements of her new life. 

Sam is there as well, up and wandering around the room, keeping in easy sight of James from what she could tell. He looks relaxed compared to the wall of glower James is putting up. It makes her want to poke his imaginary wall. No. Not just poke that wall, but fly through it, shattering it to pieces just like Thanos’ ship.

Taking a mental step back, she notes the glower isn’t directed at her. James shifts on the seat, apparently coming to the same conclusion she had during her first time here; these chairs suck. It’s clearly a universal standard; the effective comfort of any seat in a medical environment is less than fifty percent of normal. From her own spot in the U, Carol watches the seats fill and waits for their group leader. Following some obscure cue, Sam makes his exit, clapping James on the shoulder once again before he leaves.

Suzette, their group facilitator walks in, wearing a pleasant, open expression on the part of her face that isn’t twisted into scar tissue. “Welcome, everyone. I see we have a couple of new faces joining us today, so let’s make sure we’re in the right place. This group is for traumatic brain injury survivors. Whether you’re facing physical, mental and/or emotional challenges, this is a safe place to discuss what you’re dealing with.” She places her hand on her chest and continued, “My name is Suzette, and I got caught up in an ambush over in Afghanistan about fifteen years ago. I was one of the lucky ones, though I wasn’t always so sure.” 

The group starts to talk and Carol glances over at James. _Feel more like Humpty Dumpty most days _, was what she heard him tell Sam. _Sometimes I feel like I just fell off that wall and I’m still waiting for all the king’s horses and the king’s men. Like there was a moment, maybe two that I could have kept it all. That if I had been stronger I could have fought it, I got up but that was it.___

____She hadn’t caught Sam’s answer, as James’s words had thrown her right back into her confrontations with the Supreme Intelligence and with Yon-Rogg. She knew intimately that fractured, scrambled feeling James was describing. But she’d also discovered that getting back up once you’ve been knocked down was what you had to do, and sometimes all you needed to do._ _ _ _

____Carol sits quietly through the meeting — although Suzette catches her eye more than once inviting her to join in. James is silent as well, his glower eventually receding. Something about the way he’s holding his left arm catches Carol’s attention; it’s not until they are nearly done that it dawns on Carol that he has a prosthetic. That would explain the long sleeves and gloves._ _ _ _

____Carol thinks back to their encounter in the coffee shop: James had shaken with his right hand, of course, and pulled some cash out of his pocket with the same hand to pay. He’d carried his coffee in his right hand as well. But his left arm had moved naturally when he walked, at least to the point where it hadn’t caught her attention. James had also been sitting with his arms crossed for the majority of the meeting — contributing to that offputting body language of his, but showing a range of motion she wouldn’t expect from a prosthetic. Then again, maybe that was another bit of technology that had advanced since she’d been gone._ _ _ _

____Their eyes meet again as the meeting wraps up, and she finds herself smiling at James just a little. But before either of them can cross the room to perhaps say something, Sam shows up and pulls James’ attention away._ _ _ _

____A vaguely unsettled feeling follows Carol home from the meeting. It’s not the first time and she’s sure it won’t be the last. What she can’t decide was whether James had anything to do with it._ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol chats with a colleague and attends another group session; she and James go for coffee afterwards.

Carol wakes up with light in her face. It’s definitely natural light. The faint sound of an ambulance, followed by car horns filters through the window. She gets up out of bed and nods to herself; she’s still on Earth — right gravity and everything. She turns on the radio and a familiar song plays as she flips the switch on the coffee maker. 

Carol picks up her ringing phone to answer the video call, still rubbing at her eyes. “Hey Rocket. Did you set some alert for when my coffee maker goes on?” 

“No, you’re just still stuck in your old routine. And apparently so am I since I’m calling you,” Rocket answers, his eyes rolling as he shows up on the small projection. Carol gives a soft laugh as she stretches, working out the kinks in her back. 

“Well, it’s been a month — have things gotten any better with you guys? And how’s Thor?” She’s hungry, so she rummages in the cupboard for a cereal bar. 

“Quill’s a mess. First off, he and Thor go back and forth between butting heads and commiserating about how their fathers turned out to be awful people. “ Rocket wrinkles his nose; seeing as he grew up in a lab, he doesn’t really get how families - even dysfunctional families — work. 

“And he still ain’t been able to get over Gamora - losin’ her to Thanos and then her past self comin’ back and takin’ off. But it ain’t all drama. Groot says hi.” Rocket tips his comm so she can see Groot in the background, tapping away at his game console. “Well, he would say hi, anyways. And Nebula is actually settling in; she’ll probably talk to you later. She taught Drax and Mantis some Earth game she calls table football. She’s just as handy as Gamora in a fight, too.” Carol raised her eyebrows; that was high praise coming from Rocket. 

“So, it’s working, mostly. Thor is still fat, but since he’s actually doing shit again, it’s coming off a little. He stress eats bread. Like entire baskets. It still amazes me that they seemed to account for that at Stark’s wake.” He wrinkled his nose as if in disgust. “How about your infestation?”

“Goose is fine, in case you were wondering. And so is the little goblin,” Carol explains as she sets up the food for her four-footed companions. The siren song of the can opener brings Liho down from his tree, a loud klaxon of a meow as he starts winding around her feet. His bowl gets set down first just so he’d shut up. 

“Yeah I can hear him. Still can’t believe Nat willingly saved one of those nasty beasts. They really aren’t usually that loud though.” 

“That’s because Liho is an actual cat. You’re just paranoid,” Carol chides as she sets down the food for Goose. 

“I live because I’m paranoid. And I live because I don’t ever take laws too seriously. How’s the spider-kid doing? Finally, get over that legal stuff he had going?” Rocket asks as she hears the noise from one of Groot’s games starting up.

“Yeah. Peter’s over that weird moody thing, too. I figure it was just him being a teenager.” Carol shrugs as she grabs her coffee. “Who else have you been keeping in touch with?” Now that they had the means to communicate it was just remembering to make the time and effort. A phone full of numbers and now three of the key individuals were unreachable. 

“I didn’t really talk that much to most of ‘em before. And well, with Stark and Nat bein’ dead, and ain’t no one heard from Rogers...” he shrugged. “Speaking of him, I wanna get in touch with one of his friends and cut a deal on his gun. Or his arm, I ain’t picky.” Carol gave him a skeptical look as she put just a little sugar and milk in her coffee. “You know who I mean, right, Danvers?” 

“Not really? I wasn’t there for the first fight, remember? Besides, Rogers and I didn’t really talk that much, although he said something about losing his best friend to the Snap. I assume whoever you mean was there for the final showdown, but that was a lot of people to keep track of.” Carol stirred her coffee as she paced her tiny kitchen. 

“I saw the guy at Stark’s funeral, but that wasn’t exactly the place to make a deal you know?” Rocket sighed as Carol heard his chair creak. “How about you? Looking to find someone else to change your hair for?” 

She shot him a dirty look; she didn’t feel like thinking about Jim right now. “No. Just wondering if I was the only one feeling a bit weird considering the gap in the people I used to talk to,” Carol sips her coffee and turns on her laptop.

“You’re not. Nat was the one who was trying to make this a network. She wanted us to support each other,” Rocket says as he rubs his eyes. 

“Family. She wanted more family. She called the Avengers her family,” Carol took a sip of her coffee, curling her legs under herself as she moved the tv table closer. “You guys take care of each other okay? I’m gonna log on for the day and get some work done.” Carol gives a little finger wave as Rocket nods. They disconnect and Carol sits momentarily staring at her login screen. 

In the photo, Natasha was holding Liho against her shoulder. Her hair was still mostly blonde at that point; Liho was blurry, rubbing his head against her neck and it looked like Natasha was about to laugh. Carol swallows past a lump forming in her throat, resting her chin against her knees as she looks at the little details. The little wisps of hair that were trying to curl, the way Natasha’s shoulders curved in gracefully. It was a really cute picture. 

Carol hates that she can’t call her, can’t show Natasha the latest pictures she’s taken of Goose and Liho, including the brief, shining moment when they both perched on her shoulders. She stares at the picture long enough in a daze that her laptop goes back into sleep mode. “Oh, shit.” She nudged the touchpad and logged in at last.

* * *

‘Help where you can - Love where you are’ 

It is one of Suzette’s favorite sayings and Carol has come to appreciate it as well. James narrows his eyes suspiciously as Suzette writes it on the whiteboard near the end of the session, which piques Carol’s curiosity. She hasn’t been able to get James out of her mind lately, as much for the puzzle that he presents as anything else. This time she’s determined to say something to him before Sam whisks him away. 

He stands in front of the whiteboard after the meeting, and Carol moves to join him. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” He tilts his head toward the board. “Dunno if I agree with this.” 

“Oh?” 

“Not the helpin’ part, I was raised that way. The second part. What if you’re stuck in a place that ain’t good for you and maybe you don’t even know it?” The odd hitch in James’ voice as he speaks leads Carol to wonder again at the similar paths his life and hers had apparently led. 

She decides to at least hint at that common connection and see where that leads. “Good point. I’ve been there, actually.” He raises an eyebrow at her comment, and she goes on. “I guess I see this more about acknowledging where you’re at in your recovery, and the progress you’ve made.”

She gathered her courage, considering the alternate meaning of the second part of the motto. “I was wondering if maybe you’d be interested in getting some decent coffee? Or something sweet?” 

The flash of surprise on James’ face makes her regret her invitation, but then his smile, a real one this time, reassures her. “Yeah. That sounds great. Lemme leave Sam a message, so he don’t wonder where I ran off to.” 

James pulls out his phone, but instead of writing a text, he leaves a voice memo - something more easily done with a single functional hand. “Hey, Sam. Gonna head out for a little after the meeting. Don’t wait around for me -- meetcha back at the apartment.” 

They find another coffeeshop not too far away, ducking in just before a sudden autumn shower blows in out of nowhere. They place their orders, then James pulls out a chair for her as they take a seat. Carol finds the old-fashioned courtesy more charming than condescending; James had walked between her and the curb and also opened the door for her without making too much of the gestures. 

That said, James hadn’t made any sort of fuss when she paid for her own order. She’d considered for a moment paying for his as well, but that might be pushing a bit too far for what was supposed to be a friendly get-together. 

“So, did you and your friend Sam serve together?” It seemed a fairly safe question to ask. 

“Nah. I was Army and he was Air Force. Pararescue. We met through a friend after we were out,” He shrugs his shoulder though there is a little bit of tension, like maybe that’s not the whole story. “He might tell you a story about what I did to his car. But it turns into a complicated mess.” 

“I was Air Force too,” Carol replies, “And my friend Maria might tell you a story about a test pilot mission that also leads to a complicated mess.” ‘Complicated mess’, well, that was definitely one way of phrasing it.

James’ eyes light up in interest. “Shoulda guessed you were a flier.”

“Why’s that?” Carol keeps the question light while bracing herself for some snarky comment. 

“Seein’ as you’re pretty as an angel and all.” Blindsided by the compliment, Carol’s cheeks flame even as her heart warms. She looks back at James to see him blushing as well, an almost guilty look in his eye.

“James... that’s ...” she stammers in reply. Adorable, heartwarming, corny as hell and she likes it a lot more than she probably should.

“Sorry. It kinda slipped out,” he replies apologetically. “I usedta say stuff like that to gals all the time.”

“No, it’s okay. I just haven’t been flirted with like that in quite a while.” Nearly three years since there’d been any kind of flirting that she’d been looking for.

A grin slowly spreads across his face. “Well, that’s a damn shame.” James shifts in his seat again, leaning in closer toward her. “But now I wanna hear more about that test pilot gig. Sounds like there might be some more fun stories about that. Unless they’re still classified, that is.” The smile that Carol had been holding strong started to crumble. 

“That’s, well .. that’s where one of my big gaps is actually. So I can’t actually tell you what’s classified or not. I just know I loved it. ‘Higher Further Faster’ was the motto Maria and I lived by,” Carol explains before she sips her coffee to cover her consternation. 

James nods, accepting her answer without pushing for more. “You’d fit in well with a bunch of people I know. Memory gaps and all." He looks down at his mocha monstrosity and runs his thumb along the seam of the cup. "A former black ops agent friend of mine would probably have been right up your alley. She .. uh... ain’t around no more.”

Carol nods in sympathy. "I'm sorry for your loss. I lost a friend as well. She died saving a lot of people.” 

"Same here. All part of that decimation or whatever you want to call that shit.” He pauses, then inquires cautiously, “So, were you around or gone?" 

It’s a question everyone asks, but it never gets any easier to answer. "I was around. Another friend of mine called for help and then he was ... gone. He’d been looking after my cat while I was out on missions. It was hard — a lot of work, lots of patrolling and surveillance during those five years. It was how I met my friend who died. How about you?” She suspects she knows the answer. Sometimes you can just tell who had lived through those five empty years and who hadn’t. 

"I was gone,” James confirms. “Thought I was at a point where I could finally do some good again, and then I crumbled t’ pieces right in front of my best friend.” He pauses, his eyes going distant. “Those missing years don't bother me too much, though It's the other ones," he pauses and rubs at his temples. "It's the other gaps in my memory that keep me up at night."

And god, didn’t she know what that felt like. "I sorta wish this wasn't just coffee anymore," Carol glances down at her cup then back at James with a little eye contact. 

"Booze, ya mean? Yeah, it doesn't do much for me nowadays." James offers a rueful little smile as Carol nods.

"I'll drink to that," Carol raises her paper cup with a wry smile. "To shitty coping mechanisms that don't even work."

"Hear, hear," James huffs out a short laugh before tapping his cup to hers. 

Carol takes that as her chance to tip her head back and finish her coffee. She glances to see James doing the same with a few more swallows. After they set the empty paper cups on the table in unison, Carol tilts her head and asks, "Can I get your number?"

James blinks and then he lets loose a smile that's like watching a meteor shower from the safety of Earth. "Yeah, definitely. But, uh, I need to look it up. I’m not used to givin’ it out." Carol watches James dig out the phone, and with minimal tapping, he recites his number. 

She punches it into her contacts list, and pauses for a moment as auto-correct suggests another J name. She focuses on the present instead and grins as she sends James a fast text. “It’s me” followed by two coffee cup emojis. 

"And now you have mine, " Carol says as she hears his phone vibrate.

“So, um,” James says, scrubbing one hand across the back of his neck, “I got a friend who’s been buggin’ me to get out and meet more people. I was thinkin’ if I send her a snapshot of you ‘n me she’ll lay off for awhile.” 

“Sure, if you’ll text it to me. I’ve got a friend like that, too.” James gets up to stand behind her, leaning down over one of her shoulders as he holds out his phone out in front of them both. 

“Say cheese.” Momentarily distracted by the puff of his breath against her skin and the scent of James; cologne, Carol almost forgets to look at the phone. He takes a couple of photos, and they look them over before choosing one to send to ‘the princess’, as James calls his friend. He texts all of them to Carol, and she saves them off to a separate album. 

"Same time next week? " Carol asks as James takes the empty cups to the garbage. 

"Yeah. See you then, ace." He gives a little salute before opening the door for her. 

"Later, James." Carol nods as they go their separate ways.

**Author's Note:**

> We've had this in the works for quite a while - Pyrone has been EXTREMELY patient with me (Politzania) in terms of finally getting this published. We hope you enjoy!


End file.
